


This Is A Gift (It Comes With A Price)

by Achika



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Backstory, Celtic Mythology & Folklore, Gen, Mythical Beings & Creatures
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-12
Updated: 2017-08-12
Packaged: 2018-12-14 14:48:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11785383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Achika/pseuds/Achika
Summary: "When a warrior enters a great battle, when he knows that his limbs and his flesh are not enough he can tap in to the power of these creatures and become a man greater than himself."Fergal Devitt misses the warning signs, meets a Demon, and becomes More.





	This Is A Gift (It Comes With A Price)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Missy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missy/gifts).



His Ma always used to say they had the blood of heroes in their family tree, but everyone says that about their own lineage. It's just a good story to tell the kids to keep them entertained at family gatherings.

It's definitely something he plays around with, once he gets into Wrestling where the people are so much larger than life.  Saying he's related to Fionn mac Cumhaill himself puts that extra bit of pressure he needs on himself, and a little extra weight behind his actions.

Fergal doesn't necessarily think it's true, but believing it is more fun than the alternative.

Japan is...interesting. It's where he meets Gallows and Anderson, loyal like hunting dogs and just as rowdy.

"Let's take a walk!" Gallows says, practically slamming his empty sake cup down on the table. "I got too much energy,"

Fergal's been restless lately too.  It feels like there's eyes on him all the time, and not just in public where he stands out as a gaijin. Even alone, he feels watched. It feels like something big is always just about to happen. It's stressful. Gallows and Anderson have picked up on it, it seems, since they strong armed him into coming out barhopping with them tonight.

"There's a park nearby," Anderson suggests, throwing back the rest of his drink.

"A moonlit stroll in the park sounds lovely, Karl," Fergal says and pinches Anderson's cheek teasingly. It does sound nice.

The three of them leave the bar and make their way to the park. The cherry blossoms are blooming and swaying in the breeze, the weather's good, it really is the perfect night for a walk.

As nice as it is, the clear air isn't actually doing much to calm Fergal down. Anderson chatters for a bit about his Hot Asian Wife and how amazing she is but the deeper into the park they go, the quieter he and Gallows get.

They draw up near a particularly large sakura tree. Its petals are a darker pink than the others nearby, or at least it looks that way under the moonlight.

Gallows frowns, suddenly tense.

"It's late. Maybe we should head back," Gallows says, uncharacteristically willing to put an end to a night out.

"Yeah," Anderson agrees, somber. "Something's weird,"

Anything else they might have said is cut off by low noise. Fergal can hear it vibrating through him- it sounds like the wind through the branches at first, but it crystallizes into a desperate pained howling. A sudden gust of wind brushes against his cheek and hair like cold fingers and Fergal jumps back, raising his arms on instinct to block whatever it is, and meets a resistance that is almost solid.

There's angry, thwarted, screech from nothing.

"What the fucking hell was that?" Anderson asks.

"Fucking Japan," Fergal mutters. "Never had these problems back in Ireland,"

"Let's just...go home and talk about this in the morning," Gallows says.

The three of them leave the park on guard. Gallows and Anderson flank Fergal like they're trying to protect him, which is cute. None of them say anything more until they get back to their apartment building where they part ways.

 

Fergal wakes up the next morning to Gallows and Anderson letting themselves into his apartment.

"...that happened last night, right?" Gallows asks, a little unsure of himself because he's still new, no matter how well he's slotted into place.

"Yes," Fergal says. He's grown up on stories of the Fair Folk and other such things, and knows enough to know that there was _something_ in the park last night. "it was real,"

"Oh thank god," Anderson mutters to himself. "I _knew_ we hadn't drunk _that_ much,"

"I wonder what it wanted?" Fergal asks.

 

There's a show later that night, but the promoter doesn't want to let them into the venue. There's a whole host of wrestlers waiting impatiently outside. If they don't get in soon, they won't have time to set up or get their gear on. Fergal's got his paints in his bag. He hasn't quite decided what he's going to do. Sometimes he has a particualr story in mind that he wants to channel and use for the match, but usually he decides once he's ready to start painting and just lets the inspiration flow. Soon he won't have time at all.

The promoter refuses to be swayed, though, and says something in Japanese that Fergal doesn't quite catch. The Japanese wrestlers nod in understanding, even if some of them look a little grudging about it.

"What'd he say? I understood most of it, but there were a few words I don't know. He has someone fixing something?" Fergal asks.

"The mirror in one of the dressing rooms shattered," one of the Japanese wrestlers clarifies. "He's got someone back there cleaning it up and ordering a new mirror,"

"I don't know why he couldn't let the rest of us in," someone else says, impatient. "It's only Bullet Club's room that's affected,"

Gallows, Anderson, and Fergal share a look. It's probably nothing, but coming so close on the heels of last night just means that they're going to be even more on guard.

Eventually, a worker comes out and gives the all clear.

"Thank you!" the promoter says, and allows the wrestlers inside. Fergal has to rush to get ready so he doesn't see there's a voicemail on his phone and a missed call from a number he doesn't recognize until after his match.

"Prince Devitt, apparently you are a hard man to reach. But I suppose the timezones will do that. My name is Hunter Helmsley and I have a proposition for you. Call me back,"

"Look at his face, Hoot. Must be some phone call,"  Anderson says, nudging Gallows with his elbow.

"That...was Triple H," Fergal says, stunned.

"Holy shit. Really?" Anderson says.

"He wants to sign you?" Gallows asks.

"He didn't say. But why else would he call me? We're not pals," Fergal says.

 

Saying goodbye to everyone in Japan is hard. But he knows Bullet Club is in good hands, and that Gallows and Anderson are going to keep everyone safe if any more weird things happen.  He doesn't have long back in Ireland before he has to go to Florida, but a quick recharge is just what he needed.

Fergal's on his way home to his parents' house from the gym when he hears that ghostly wailing again. Louder now, more insistent, and he can tell now that it's a female voice or at least pretending to be.

In old Éire that only means one thing.

"For the love of Christ, shut up!" Fergal yells down the wooded path, hands covering his ears. "I get it! I'm about to die! I don't need your yapping being the last thing I hear!"

The banshee quiets, and Fergal gets the distinct impression he's offended her. With his ears still ringing, he finds it hard to care.

There's a dark laughter coming from somewhere in the woods.

" **You must think yourself very strong, to yell at a Bean Sidhe** ," the laughing voice says.

The shadows seem darker than they did just a moment earlier.

"I'd say I'm pretty tough, yeah," Fergal says, with one last shake of his head to clear the ringing. "Who wants to know?"

More laughter. The shadows are moving. The grass and flowers are withering. The air feels like it could boil at any second.

" **I do enjoy a good hunt. Care for a fight**?"

And Fergal... Fergal's not stupid but he does like to fight, and it's not like whatever this is is going to let him just walk away, not with the way the banshee was screaming just a minute ago.

"Alright, yeah. Let's have a go," Fergal says with a shrug and a smirk. He tosses his dufflebag to ground, and the newly dried grass crunches beneath it.

The shadows have formed a mostly-human shape, now, dark like the Void. Then the creature grins and exposes long sharp teeth and a blood red tongue.

It lunges at Fergal almost faster than he can see. Fergal dodges.

The thing seems surprised.

"What, did you think I'd make it easy for ya?" Fergal taunts.

It laughs again. The fight continues. Fergal has to use every move in his own playbook and some moves stolen out of others. The thing won't go down but neither will Fergal, which irritates it.

" **Why won't you die?** " it hisses.

Surprisingly, it's his mother's voice that pops into Fergal's head. A memory from when he was little and had injured himself practicing wrestling with his brothers.

"You've got Finn MacCool's blood in you, you're not going to let a little thing like this keep you down, are you? That's what I thought. See? It's not so bad,"

His mother's story had given him the strength to get up again countless times. It could do it again.

Fergal laughs between sharp, gasping breaths. "You thought you'd cornered some poor defenseless human, but I'm not that. I'm descended from Heroes of Old. I've led a group as vicious as the Fianna. I've got the blood of Fionn mac Cumhaill himself running through my veins and I _will. not. lose_ ,"

The thing realizes it's made a mistake. It roars angrily, and Fergal can see it starting to open its eye. He knows instinctively that he can't let that eye open. He reaches up and rakes his fingernails across it, causing the creature to cover it in pain.

Fergal gets it to the ground and stomps on it, anything to keep that eye shut.

" **You win!** " The thing howls.

Fergal steps back, panting for breath and still on guard.

" **You win** ," it repeats. But then it starts to laugh. " **You'll wish you hadn't** ,"

Its body starts to become formless again, dissolving at the edges back into shadow, but then the shadows fly towards Fergal. They go for his face, and he can't stop them. He can feel them enter his body like smoke, through his mouth and nose when he struggles to breathe.

Eventually, it stops,  the insects begin to buzz again and he is left alone in the dark woods. Is it over?

" **Child Fionn with the warrior heart and a hero's blood. Oh we'll have such fun,** " says a sly, slick voice inside his mind.

There's a circlet on the ground, where the demon used to be. He picks it up.

He's not alone. He grins.

If that's how the demon wants to play it, well...It's not alone anymore either.

 

He arrives in Florida to find his old friend Hideo with a man in a suit who must work for WWE, waiting for him in a airport.

"You're Devitt then? I'm Mark Carrano, talent relations. Let me say, Hunter is very pleased you decided to join us," the suit guy says, holding out a hand.

He takes it. Hideo's giving him the side-eye, like he can tell something's different now and isn't sure if he likes it.

"Call me Finn," Finn says with a smile. "Finn Balor,"

There's a pleased rumbling in the back of Finn's mind, and for once Finn and Balor are in perfect agreement.

This is going to be a lot of fun.


End file.
